My 10-year-old son can be a train wreck.
I know it’s not his fault. His limbs are growing faster than he knows, and his brain is all over the place, from the world of Minecraft to the Marvel Comics Superhero Universe to the Greek gods of the Percy Jackson-verse. Still, excuses aside, he’s simply not that cognizant of his own body.
When he walks down the hall, I cringe, worried that he’ll knock over framed photos hanging on the walls.
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